Get A Clue
by xxxTsubasaHoLic
Summary: When Kyle visits his super best friend in the capital city, he runs into somebody he had hoped to never see again. Kyle/Cartman. Rated T for language.
1. Just Like I'm Falling For The First Time

**"And so my only hate became my only love."**

**-Anonymous**

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"Mr. B, TJ took my pencil again," a young girl whined, her cheeks red. She pointed a chubby finger at a small, dark-haired boy in the center of the classroom.

"TJ Tucker! What have I told you about manners? Stealing isn't nice," Kyle reprimanded. The boy coolly flipped his teacher the middle finger, returning his attention to the coffee in front of him.

Kyle Broflovski was twenty-nine years old and taught second grade at South Park Elementary. Most of his friends had moved away from the small town after high school, but Kyle had just never seen the opportunity. His best friend Stan Marsh had moved to Washington, D.C. to live with his girlfriend Wendy after law school. Kyle's other friend Kenny McCormick had won the lottery and bought a condo in Miami. Who would have guessed?

"Andrea, you can borrow one of my pencils for today," Kyle said kindly, handing the girl an extra pencil. "Just don't let TJ get to you, okay?"

"'Kay," Andrea nodded, skipping back to her group of friends happily. Satisfied, Kyle leaned back in his leather chair, surveying the classroom. The kids were working on art projects for a school show. He smiled, watching them glue macaroni to paper and cover it with sparkles.

Life in South Park had become routine. Ever since graduating high school, Kyle had noticed that less and less weird stuff seemed to happen with every year that passed. It was actually kind of sad. He missed his old adventures with Stan, Kenny and...

Eric Cartman had been Kyle's enemy, his nemesis, and his rival. The pair had hated each other ever since they first met in kindergarten. The stupid fatass loved nothing more than ripping on Kyle for being Jewish, or for the massive Jew 'fro that he tried so desperately to hide under his green ushanka. Sometimes it seemed like the only thing getting Kyle through his day was the chance to beat Cartman, to wipe that smirk off his fat little face. But in the sophomore year of high school, Cartman moved away. The school had gotten sick of dealing with his 'delinquent behavior' and expelled him, forcing Cartman's mother to send him to boarding school.

Stan and Kyle had lost track of Cartman after he moved. Kyle wasn't complaining. All that asshole ever did was try to screw him over. Cartman had humiliated him more times than anyone could count, almost gotten him killed on numerous occasions, and even given him AIDS once. What did Kyle ever do to that stupid asshole that made him single Kyle out?

Kyle frowned, pushing a stray red curl off his forehead. Although he had hated that racist asshole with a passion, for a while after Cartman moved, he had felt... Different. Almost empty. His enemy was gone, and Kyle no longer had anyone to measure up to, nobody to strive to beat.

Suddenly the bell rang, snapping the redhead out of his thoughts. The children folded up their drawings, tossing the glue and sparkles into a bin. TJ flashed Kyle the bird as the boy tossed his empty coffee cup into the crafts bin. That little prick.

"See you next week, kids," Kyle called, trying to hold back his famous temper. Today was the Friday that began spring break. Kyle had been planning to visit Stan at his new apartment in Washington, D.C.

"Bye, Mr. B," Andrea called shyly, skipping out of the classroom. Kyle waved back as she blushed and turned away.

As the last of the kids said their goodbyes and left the room, Kyle cleaned up the last of the art supplies and books. When the classroom was back in order, he locked the doors and went home.

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Kyle bustled around the kitchen of his small house, preheating the oven and pulling a box of pizza out of the freezer. After a few years of teaching, he had bought a green house on the outskirts of the town. It wasn't mush, but it was all Kyle could afford with his teacher's salary.

Kyle's cell phone buzzed in his pocket, playing an obnoxious ring tone that he made a mental note to change later.

"Hello?" he answered, flipping open the phone.

"Hey, man! What's up?" The voice of Kyle's best friend greeted.

"Oh, hey, Stan! Wait a second, let me put you on speaker. I'm making dinner," Kyle replied, setting the phone down on the counter.

"Hot date with your mom tonight?" Stan teased. Kyle could feel his face flush.

"No!" Kyle replied hotly. "I'm just making myself some frozen pizza." He slid the tray into the oven, picking up the phone and sitting down on the small leather couch.

"Listen, Kyle. When you come down tomorrow, Wendy and I have some big news for you!" Stan exclaimed.

Kyle rolled his eyes. After years of being in an on-and-off relationship with Wendy Testaburger, Stan had never really lost his initial amazement with her. Sometimes he still seemed like a fourth-grade boy with a crush.

"Well, you can tell me on Sunday. The flight from Colorado to D.C will probably take all day, and when I get to your place the first thing I'm going to do is sleep," Kyle chuckled.

"Sure, fine. But you're mine all day Sunday! Wendy and I want to show you around town. We got a great little apartment in the middle of the city. It's got a really nice view of the Lincoln Memorial," Stan said.

"I didn't take you to be a history nut," Kyle replied. "Washington D.C must have tainted you. What made you decide to move all the way down there, anyway?"

"I dunno. Wendy has some family down here, and my boss was willing to let me transfer to the D.C branch of our company. And besides, it's a really beautiful city. I can't wait for you to get here!" Stan yelled in excitement. Kyle held the phone away from his ear, wincing.

"Chill out, dude! I'll be there at around seven tomorrow night. And you sure as hell better be picking me up, the cab drivers down there expect you to tip heavy!" Kyle informed Stan.

"Aw, dude, don't be such a Jew," Stan whined.

"Oh, shut up. You sound just like…" Kyle's voice trailed off. Thoughts from this afternoon swam through his head.

"Kyle? You still there?" Stan's worried voice snapped him back to reality.

"Yeah, sorry. I'll see you at seven tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay, man. Talk to you then!" Stan hung up. Kyle snapped his cell phone shut, sliding the pizza out of the oven. It was slightly burnt around the edges, but he'd seen worse. Kyle munched on a piece of pepperoni pizza, settling down into the couch to watch a late-night rerun of Terrance and Philip.

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As predicted, the plane ride had been brutal. There was a three-hour delay at the connecting airport in Philadelphia, and Kyle had been stuck sitting next to a teenage girl who was chatting loudly on her cell phone. When he finally arrived in Washington, Kyle was relieved to find that Stan had kept his promise to pick Kyle up from the airport. Stan and Wendy's apartment was predictably enormous and richly furnished, with a beautiful high-rise view of the city.

At the crack of dawn Sunday morning, Stan had dragged his best friend out of bed to go sightseeing. The city of Washington D.C was like nothing Kyle had ever seen. He'd expected it to be a bustling metropolis, but the city was green and beautiful. As the two young men walked down one of the city streets past the Washington Monument, Kyle could almost see the allure of the place. The sky was a perfect clear blue, casting a warm haze over the city.

"Come on, man! Wendy made reservations at Giorgio's. It's the best Italian place in the whole city! She said she's going to meet us there," Stan announced.

He hadn't changed at all in the year since Kyle had last visited. Stan's shaggy black hair was combed back neatly and he was clean-shaven, making him look very business-like. Stan was still as handsome as ever, making Kyle feel self-conscious. He had been working on his mass of red hair for years, and finally gotten it to the point where it hung tamely to frame his pale face. The only part of Kyle's appearance he truly liked was his large green eyes.

"Stan, come on! We've been out walking for hours. I'm going to sit down for a while," Kyle proclaimed, swinging himself onto a green bench. "Besides, the scenery here's really nice."

"Oh, fine," Stan huffed, sitting next to the redhead. They sat in silence for a few moments, enjoying the afternoon. It felt almost like old times; just being together with nothing to say.

"So… how are things?" Stan asked casually.

"Okay, I guess. Not much going on. Did you hear about Kenny?"

"Yeah, man! How lucky is he? But I guess we can't rip on him for being poor anymore," Stan realized, frowning. Kyle laughed.

"So what are you doing for work nowadays?" Stan inquired.

"I teach at our old elementary school now," Kyle answered, looking down. His career wasn't nearly as exciting as his friend's. Stan was an executive of a law firm, and made a good amount of money.

"Really? Does Mr. Garrison still work there?" Stan exclaimed.

"Actually, he does. But he got demoted to teaching kindergarten after he molested some kid," Kyle replied. "Can you believe that guy?"

"Yeah, he always freaked me out a little."

There was silence for another moment.

"Oh, I almost forgot," Kyle blurted out. "What was your big news with Wendy?"

Stan's face immediately lit up.

"Wendy and I are getting married! We were going to tell you at dinner, and… Oh, I hope she won't be mad at me for letting it slip," he muttered.

"Stan, that's awesome! And it's for sure?" Kyle asked, overjoyed for his best friend.

"Yup! I proposed to her last weekend. The wedding's going to be in August," Stan declared proudly. He took Kyle's hand, going down on one knee. The redhead blushed as passersby stared.

"Kyle Alexander Broflovski," Stan uttered with the utmost seriousness.

"What!?" Kyle hissed, looking around in embarrassment.

"Will you… Be my best man?"

Kyle rolled his eyes, yanking my hand away from Stan. He stood up, grinning.

"Of course I will!" Kyle couldn't help but smile as his blush faded. "I'm really happy for you, dude."

"Thanks. Oh, I just remembered! Wendy's waiting at the restaurant!"

"Look, man, you're already late. Go ahead without me. I'll catch up to you guys later," Kyle suggested.

"You sure?" Stan asked, brushing the dust off his jeans.

"Yeah, I want to walk around for a while. Don't worry about starting without me, I can treat you guys to ice cream later."

"Okay, then. See you in a few!" Stan shrugged, taking off down the street.

Kyle strolled off in the opposite direction, stopping for a moment to gaze at the Washington Monument. Looking at the tall buildings and people all around him, Kyle suddenly felt meaningless and unimportant. When had he decided to sell out his dreams and live in his hometown?

Shaking off the thought, Kyle started walking towards the street Stan had gone down. He paused for a few seconds at the entrance to a small park on the side of the road. Some kind of event seemed to be happening. A tall brown-haired man was speaking on a makeshift stage, surrounded by a crowd of onlookers. A plastic banner reading 'Colorado 2012' stretched across the back of the stage in front of blue velvet curtains. Mildly interested, Kyle took a seat on a park bench near the podium.

"…And I promise that if I am elected Governor of Colorado, I will bring peace on Earth and end world hunger."

Cheers erupted from the small crowd. Kyle's eyes widened. Why the hell would they be cheering a dumb line like that? He stood from my seat on the bench, moving closer to the stage.

"Moving on, I will also use my power as Governor to cure AIDS!" The speaker shouted, raising his arms above his head amidst loud applause.

There was something odd about the man onstage. He was very handsome, with light brown hair and a muscular frame. His deep yet childish voice carried a strangely familiar accent.

The crowd went wild. This man was very charismatic, charming the audience with every word. For some reason, a twinge of annoyance came over Kyle. He pushed his way to the front of the crowd until he was within seven or eight feet of the speaker.

"Thank you all so much for coming out here to support me today. And remember, vote Eric Cartman in 2012!"

In the span of a few seconds, a thousand memories rushed through Kyle's mind. Eric Cartman…

"_You dumb Jew asshole!" he shouted, giving me the middle finger._

"_Suck my balls," he ordered, holding up a contract._

"_I'm not fat, you goddamn Jew! I'm fucking big boned!" He fumed._

"_Miss Lopez, would you like to give Kyle a kiss?" he teased, watching the other boy blush._

"_I'm here, Kyle!" he cried sincerely, a tone of worry in his voice_.

_Eric Cartman…_

A wave of dizziness passed over Kyle's body. His vision swam, and there was a sensation of falling. Kyle was dimly aware of a commotion, and could barely make out the face of somebody leaning over him.

"…Kahl?"

That was the last thing he heard before everything went black.

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A/N: This is so much fun to write. I give all credit for the idea to use quotes at the beginning to Onigiri Reject, the author of the brilliant story 'Don't Suck My Balls'. Go read it.

Anyway, I can't wait to get into Cartman's character. He's so much fun to write for! By the way, if you spot any grammatical errors in this, please, PLEASE let me know. This was originally written in first person, then changed when I decided it was too obscure. The lyric for the chapter title is from the song 'Falling For The First Time' by the Barenaked Ladies.

Reviews are greatly appreciated. I will give you cookies if you give me reviews.


	2. But You're Still On My Lonely Mind

"**Whom they have injured, they also hate."  
-****Seneca**

Kyle felt like he was floating. Everything was warm, and a sweet smell filled the air. A familiar voice rang through his ears, again and again.

"_Kahl!? Kahl, is that you?"_

The captivating smell drifting through Kyle's mind was familiar. Chocolate, maybe? Chocolate and cinnamon… Kyle's favorite scents. He didn't want the dream to end. But suddenly, the warmth was gone. A bitter chill flooded through Kyle's pores, filling him with agony.

"COLD!!! MOTHER FUCKING COLD!!!" Kyle screamed, curling up in bed. He shut his eyes tightly, willing himself to sink back into the dream. It had been such a nice dream, too. But wait… The scent of chocolate with cinnamon was still drifting through the air.

"Wake up, you fucking pussy," a familiar voice drawled. Kyle's eyes shot open at the sound, feeling another small twinge of annoyance. He found himself curled up in an enormous bed with silk sheets. The bed itself was located in the center of a luxurious room with floor-length windows and white lace curtains. Kyle marveled at his surroundings for a moment before turning to the man next to him.

The tall, stocky man from yesterday stood by the side of the gray silk bed, holding a tray with two cream-colored mugs on it. Kyle scowled as he noticed that the man had pulled Kyle's blanket off of him, causing the sudden rude awakening. The man smirked, handing him one of the mugs and setting the tray down.

"Here, asshole. I made your favorite."

Kyle took a sip of the warm drink, surprised. Hot chocolate with a cinnamon stick… It was indeed Kyle's favorite, and had been ever since he was a little kid. The redhead glanced at the other man in confusion. His head throbbed, and he couldn't quite seem to remember where he was.

Suddenly, Kyle's stomach felt like it had done a somersault. His eyes shot open as the events from the previous day flooded back into his mind.

"_And remember, vote Eric Cartman in 2012!"_

Eric Cartman?!? Kyle flipped over, turning his face away from the other man.

"No, no, this isn't happening, this isn't happening," Kyle muttered, hoping he would wake up any second now.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Kahl? It is you, right?" the man asked, sounding irritated. "I sure as hell hope I didn't bring some random asshole home."

"C-Cartman?" Kyle stuttered, hoping he was insane. He felt a sudden wave of embarrassment, looking down to see that he was, thankfully, completely dressed.

"What's the matter, Jew? Surprised to see me?" The man- Cartman- smirked, sipping from his own mug. He had that same infuriating look on his face that had managed to piss Kyle off so many times all those years ago.

Cartman's devious personality was now easily recognizable, although his physical appearance had changed considerably. Much of the weight that Cartman had carried during his childhood had melted away, though enough remained to lend his face a childish appearance.

Although Cartman had always been a year older than Kyle- thirty now, he guessed- the man could have passed for twenty-five. Kyle realized with a blush that his own girlish appearance could have been mistaken for even younger.

"Where am I?" Kyle demanded angrily, setting down his mug on the tray. "And why the hell are _you_ here?"

"Patience, Kahl. All in due time. Must be that Jew temper of yours acting up again."

"You think this is funny, asshole? Tell me what's going on, _now_!"

"Jesus Christ, Kahl, calm down. You want to know why you're here? You fucking passed out at my speech yesterday. Some retards were trying to take you to the hospital. You're just lucky that I recognized you and brought you home instead," Cartman explained.

"LUCKY? Why would I be lucky to wake up after thirteen _YEARS_ and find YOU hanging over my bed?" Kyle shouted, his flaming red hair spilling across his face.

Cartman suddenly looked hurt. Wait, Cartman? Hurt?

"You seem to have forgotten that it's not _your_ bed you woke up in! You'd better just be grateful, you dumb Jew! I even had to track down your gay-ass friend Stan and call him so he wouldn't worry about you!"

Kyle's mouth hung open. He had forgotten all about Stan and Wendy at the shock of seeing his old nemesis.

"Stan- Oh my God! I never showed up at the restaurant! Where's your phone? Oh, Jesus, he's probably freaking out right now-"

"Calm the hell down, I said I already called him for you," Cartman cut Kyle off. "And if you need to get all that fucking sand out of your vagina, the bathroom's right over there."

Kyle flushed beet-red as Cartman pointed to a door across the room. His enemy stood up, taking the tray with him. The redhead fumed as Cartman strode across the large room, pausing at the door for a moment.

"Do you still want this?" Cartman asked quietly, holding out Kyle's hot chocolate mug.

Kyle was surprised at Cartman's voice. He sounded hurt and disappointed, a tone that Kyle had not once heard his rival use.

"Fine, then," Cartman scowled when Kyle was silent. He seemed to be trying to sound gruff. Kyle couldn't help but smirk.

"Uh, wait a second," Kyle forced himself to say as Cartman turned to leave. "I wasn't finished with that."

Cartman grinned, handing the smaller man his coffee mug. Kyle gratefully cupped it in his hands, letting the warmth flow through them. He took a sip and smiled, surprised at how good it tasted.

"Hey, Kahl," Cartman muttered. Kyle looked up from his hot chocolate in surprise.

"Yeah?"

"Uh, I'll take you back to your gay little friend's place. But what do you say we hang out for a while later? You know, catch up?"

Kyle narrowed his eyes. What was with Cartman? The bigoted asshole Kyle had known wouldn't have given him a second glance, let alone invited him to do something. Had he really changed?

"Come on, you fucking Jew, I'll even treat you to dinner."

Of course he hadn't changed.

Not one bit.

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Kyle found himself wondering every few seconds just exactly how he had come to be where he was at the moment. After waking up in his childhood rival's enormous house, he had been dropped off to an anxious Stan and Wendy. Stan had interrogated him for hours about exactly what had happened the previous day, his jaw dropping comically at the mention of Eric Cartman.

"Cartman? You seriously saw fucking _Cartman?_" Stan asked disbelievingly.

"Yeah, dude! And he's freaking loaded! Did I tell you he's running for Governor?

"No… Cartman? Are you kidding me?"

"I know, dude! It was weird as hell. He even invited me to dinner tonight," Kyle admitted.

And that's how Kyle ended up where he was. In a five-star restaurant. Sitting directly across from his least favorite person on the face of the earth. The restaurant was incredible; Kyle was sure he'd heard of it on TV somewhere.

A small fountain bubbled cheerfully next to the marble-topped table that the two were seated at. Kyle shifted uncomfortably; Stan had insisted that he wear a suit. His hair was even neatly styled, falling gently around his face.

Cartman was dressed in an expensive-looking tuxedo. His light brown hair was slicked back, and Kyle was surprised to realize that he had actually shaved.

Kyle picked at the seafood tray, glancing up every few seconds at Cartman. Although the man had slimmed down quite a bit, Kyle still held back laughter when he ordered two double cheeseburgers.

"This is kind of extravagant, isn't it?" Kyle commented as he cracked open an oyster from his plate.

"Kahl, I'm a senator," Cartman boasted, closing his eyes in satisfaction. "I can afford to be extravagant."

"Really?" Kyle remarked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "It's funny, I don't think you mentioned that you were a senator."

Cartman had been filling Kyle in about his life since South Park, how he had pretended to 'improve' himself in boarding school and gotten a scholarship to Harvard. Apparently he had made a name for himself as a genius in government and eventually been appointed after the death of one of the previous Colorado senators.

"Oh, don't be bitter, Kahl, maybe someday you'll be as rich and famous as me."

"Up yours, fatass," Kyle retorted, getting a satisfying glare from Cartman (who, admittedly, was no longer really fat. But Kyle sure as hell wasn't going to tell him that). "Besides, if you're so famous, why didn't I know you had become a senator?"

"How the hell am I supposed to know, you dumb Jew? Don't you ever watch the news, or can you not even afford a television on your teacher's salary?" Cartman smirked, looking Kyle directly in the eyes.

"Shut up, you assh- wait a minute, how did you know I was a teacher?" Kyle snapped. Cartman's cheeks flushed slightly, and he pretended to be focused on his meal.

"I think you mentioned it earlier this morning," the larger man muttered, looking down.

Kyle was confused- he knew he hadn't discussed his own life with Cartman. Shaking off the thought, he chuckled at the sight of Cartman hunched over his plate, scowling fiercely and looking for all the world like his ten-year-old self.

"Anyway, I love teaching, even if I don't make a whole lot of money," Kyle remarked, breaking the awkward silence. Cartman looked up from his food, grunting what sounded like an agreement. Encouraged, Kyle went on.

"It is kind of weird, though. You know, teaching the kids of our old classmates?" Kyle mused, thoughtfully playing with his food.

"Oh, really? Whose brats are you stuck with?" Cartman sneered. Kyle shot him a glance, continuing.

"Well, I've got Token's son Jackson, and Clyde married Bebe Stevens, so I've got their daughter Andrea, and-" Kyle paused.

"What, you dumb Jew?" Cartman snapped. "Is that it?"

"And TJ Tucker," Kyle muttered, avoiding Cartman's eyes.

"Tucker? That asshole Craig's kid? Ugh, what dumb bitch would marry Craig?" Cartman sighed. "Who's the mother?

"Uh… The mother? Well, I don't really know, technically. TJ's adopted. Craig, uh… married… Tweek," Kyle admitted, trying to sound casual.

"AHAHAHAHAHA! CRAIG'S A FAG? Oh, that's great! I should have guessed!" Cartman roared with laughter. Kyle felt his ears start to burn. In one swift motion, Kyle slapped Cartman harshly across the cheek.

"Shut the hell up, you fucking asshole! Do you want the whole restaurant to hear you?" Kyle hissed. "You know, what the hell is your problem? Oh, forget it. I knew I shouldn't have expected any better from you."

Cartman's mouth hung open slightly as Kyle stood up, dropping a fifty-dollar bill on the table.

"That's for the meal, you can keep the change. I don't want you to think I owe you for anything."

Kyle stormed out of the restaurant without so much as a second glance, leaving a bewildered Cartman to the bill.

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Kyle sat with his arms wrapped around himself on a bench a few blocks from where he had ditched Cartman, watching the sun set over the twinkling lights of the city. His cheeks still burned slightly. That stupid fatass was the same intolerant bastard he'd always been. But why had Kyle gotten so mad? Shouldn't he have expected as much? This was Cartman, after all.

But still, feelings of guilt bubbled up in Kyle's chest as he remembered how Cartman had helped him after he passed out, and how it somehow seemed like the idiot was genuinely trying to befriend him.

Kyle sure hadn't tried to be Cartman's friend after he transferred schools. The redhead had been so caught up in his happiness to be away from the asshole for a while, he hadn't noticed as a slight ache had begun to form inside of him. Eventually, that ache had been pushed aside and Kyle had continued with his life.

The moonlight sparkled on the glistening silver leaves of the trees lining the empty street. Kyle shivered as a gust of wind blew through his clothes, chilling him to the bone. He jumped at the sound on footsteps crunching on leaves behind him.

"Kyle?"

Cartman's voice was unmistakable. Kyle didn't turn around, instead focusing his eyes on the sidewalk. The redhead jumped as a wave of warmth settled over his shoulders. He felt his fingers brush against the jacket that now lay over his shoulders. Surprised, Kyle turned around to meet the other man's gaze.

"I know you think I'm the asshole, but you know what?" Cartman asked, with no hint of emotion in his voice. Kyle felt the sensation of being X-rayed under the larger man's warm brown eyes.

"Do you know how long it's been since I've seen or heard from you, Kyle?"

The redhead noticed with surprise that Cartman seemed to be trying to pronounce Kyle's name correctly, for the first time ever.

"Thirteen years, seven months, and twelve days."

Without another word, Cartman turned and walked back in the direction of his car, his shadow growing smaller and smaller on the pavement until it finally disappeared around a corner. Kyle shivered under the moonlight, clutching Cartman's jacket closer around his shoulders. He heard a small crinkling noise coming from one of the front pockets.

Reaching into the pocket, Kyle found a small wad of paper. He pulled it open to reveal his fifty-dollar bill, which looked to have been angrily crumpled up, and then smoothed out. Frustrated, he crumpled up the bill once again, shoving it hastily back into the pocket.

Kyle clutched Cartman's jacket to his chest, feeling like a real asshole.

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Kyle lay in his guest bed at Stan's house, tossing restlessly. Stan had known better than to ask any questions when Kyle trudged into the apartment at around ten, heading straight to his room without a word. The redhead smiled weakly when he saw that Stan had left Kyle his favorite candy bar on his pillow, like he always used to do when Kyle and Cartman got into a fight. Stan was just too smart for his own good sometimes.

It was undeniable, Kyle felt horrible. He gazed out the window into the trees surrounding Stan's apartment complex, lost in thought. On an impulse, he pulled out his cell phone, dialing in the number his rival had written down for him earlier that day.

The phone rang several times. Kyle was about to snap it shut in frustration when, suddenly, somebody picked up. There was silence for a moment.

"Cartman?"

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A/N: This chapter is a bit emotional, but I had to get all of that out of the way before I could move the story along. And ooooh, a cliffhanger! My friend Alexandra is going to kill me. She hates cliffhangers. Ha ha ha, Alexandra.

I revealed whose son TJ Tucker is in this chapter. Please don't kill me, I just had to slip that in. I love Creek. and I was really glad to finally be able to write for Cartman in this chapter. He's so delightfully evil. :3 The lyric for the chapter title is from the song 'Here Without You' by 3 Doors Down.

Anyway, remember- Reviews motivate me to update faster! Next chapter should be out sometime soon. Enjoy!


	3. I Wanna Get Back To The Old Days

"**You hate someone whom you really wish to love, but whom you cannot love. Perhaps he himself prevents you."**

**-Sri Chinmoy**

"Cartman?" Kyle asked, not believing his ears. He took a quick glance at the alarm clock on the table next to the bed. It read 3:47 AM. Kyle realized with a start that Cartman must have been awake, too.

"What do you want, you dumb Jew? It's four in the fucking morning," Cartman's voice answered from the other side of the line.

"I'm sorry," Kyle muttered. There was silence on the other side of the line. Cartman had probably hung up.

"Well, I'm not, you fucking douche bag! That dinner was goddamn expensive!" Cartman's voice startled Kyle. He sounded exhausted, yawning halfway through the sentence.

"Look, man. I'll make it up to you," Kyle offered, trying his best to sound friendly. "Want to go to a movie or something tomorrow?"

"Whatever, Kahl. Now shut the hell up and let me get some fucking sleep."

Kyle didn't miss the once again incorrect pronunciation of his name. He grinned, suddenly feeling much better. The redhead rolled over onto his side, pulling the covers over his shoulder and arm.

"Night, Cartman," he whispered, reaching out to switch off the light.

"Night, Jew."

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Over the next few days, Kyle found himself strangely running into Cartman almost everywhere he went. The redhead had been avoiding him since Wednesday, on which Cartman had gotten the both of them thrown out of a movie for shouting something about 'goddamn hippies' whenever Owen Wilson came onscreen. But the very next day, when Stan had taken Kyle to the White House for a tour, his least favorite fatass had been there on 'official business'.

"I just can't get away from that asshole! It's freaking weird, man," Kyle declared to Stan before Wendy's homemade dinner on Friday night. The raven-haired woman swished around the kitchen happily, singing quietly to herself.

"I guess so. But hey, you're leaving tomorrow," Stan reminded him with a small frown. "Just don't let him get to you."

Stan grinned as Wendy set a plate of spaghetti out for Kyle, Stan, and herself. It looked amazing; linguini with homemade tomato sauce and garnished with a sprig of parsley. The black-haired man leaned up to kiss his fiancée on the cheek, causing her to blush shyly.

Kyle picked at his food quietly. Although it was delicious, he couldn't really find his appetite.

"What's wrong, Kyle?" Wendy asked, a worried expression on her face. "Is the food okay?"

"No, no, Wendy. The food's great. It's just… I don't feel very well," Kyle answered, pushing his plate away and standing up.

He excused himself quietly, stepping out of the room. Not wanting to look back and see Wendy's slightly hurt expression, Kyle wandered back to his guest room, stepping out onto the small wooden balcony.

He surveyed the city from the fifteenth-story balcony, trying to pick out the places he and Stan had visited. The Lincoln Memorial had been lit up for the night, casting its warm golden glow over the buildings of the city. It was a truly beautiful sight, accompanied by the billions of stars that were visible in the clear night sky. Crickets chirped loudly from the ground, a sign of the coming season.

Was it really already time to leave? Kyle couldn't believe how fast the week had gone by. The sudden appearance of Cartman had certainly shaken things up a bit. It had been wonderful to see Stan again, though. In all honesty, Kyle was jealous of his best friend. He had it all; an ambitious, high-paying job, a home in a wonderful city, and a beautiful fiancée.

And what did Kyle have? A mediocre job, a mediocre house. A mediocre life. He sighed, sinking to the ground and curling his thin legs up 'Indian-style'. Somewhere along the way, Kyle had lost his ambition, his drive. At one point, he'd been the top of his class, considered for numerous scholarships. How was it that his only enemy, the person he'd hated from the instant they met, was the one who had come out on top?

Kyle tugged at his long red curls, mimicking pulling down a hat. It was an old habit still ingrained in his muscle memory. The tattered green ushanka from his childhood had been tossed aside when the boys entered their first year of high school. Kyle suddenly found himself wishing he could tuck his curly hair under his old green hat and disappear back into his fifteen-year-old self.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

"Now, Kyle, I packed you some snacks for the plane ride. Don't forget your ticket," Wendy called after Kyle as he opened the passenger's side car door, stepping out onto the airport sidewalk.

"Yes, Mother," Kyle joked, pulling on his orange fleece jacket. Stan chuckled, sliding out of the driver's side.

The Dulles' International Airport parking lot buzzed with activity. Families stood on the gray platform under a canopy of cement, hailing cabs or collecting their runaway children. The sky above was overcast and dark, the flat cloud layer stretching for miles in every direction. Kyle frowned as a drop of rain hit him squarely on the nose.

Stan pushed open the trunk of his silver Mercedes with little effort, heaving Kyle's red suitcase onto the ground next to him. Slamming the trunk shut, the black-haired man turned to his best friend.

"Kyle, it's been really fantastic having you visit. I mean, really great," Stan muttered awkwardly. "I've missed you so much."

"I missed you too, Stan-" Kyle was cut off sharply as his best friend pulled him into a bone-crushing hug. The redhead's face flushed as he gulped for air.

"Stan- can't- breathe," Kyle gasped. Stan released the shorter man from the embrace, blushing slightly.

"Sorry," Stan grinned sheepishly. Kyle rolled his eyes, smiling back.

"And besides, Stan, I'll be back in August for the wedding, remember? It'll only be a few months, I promise. And I'll call," Kyle promised.

"You'd better, or else I'll have to come up to that hick town and kick your scrawny ginger ass," Stan joked. Kyle gave a weak smile, hoisting his suitcase heavily over his shoulder.

Kyle watched as his best friend slid back into the driver's seat, shutting the car door with one final wave. Stan drove slowly through the crowded parking lot, stopping every few seconds to wait for traffic to ease. Kyle watched with mild interest as a long black limousine pulled into the crowd of automobiles.

The silver car merged onto the highway, eventually becoming a speck and disappearing in the gray haze.

The rain was coming down hard now. Kyle stepped under the overhanging concrete slab above him to avoid getting soaked. He shook his head roughly, spraying water in every direction. An elderly woman nearby shot him a withering glance.

"Sorry," Kyle muttered, pushing open the revolving door that led to the airport lobby. He placed his suitcase on the ground, pulling out the plastic handle to roll the red bag behind him.

"Wait up, you asshole!"

Kyle looked around in surprise; the voice sounded familiar. But the only person standing outside was the same old woman he had sprayed water on earlier. He shrugged, walking toward the line for baggage checking.

"Kahl, you stupid Jew! I'm over here!"

The voice was louder this time. Kyle glanced behind him in confusion. This time, he spotted a familiar tuxedo-clad shape jogging through the parking lot. Kyle smacked his forehead with his palm.

Not him. Not now.

Cartman pushed open the revolving door loudly, panting. Kyle had to hold back laughter when he noticed that his nemesis was thoroughly soaked, his perfect hairstyle mussed. The larger man glared at Kyle as he struggled to regain his composure, gasping for breath every few seconds.

"What- the hell- Kahl? I was- yelling for you- for like- five minutes," Cartman panted, his large hands clutching at a stitch in his side.

"How was I supposed to hear you over the rain, dumbass?" Kyle snapped, letting his suitcase fall to the ground. "What the hell are you doing here, anyway?"

Cartman was silent for a few seconds, still breathing heavily. He straightened up, fixing his gaze on the shorter man.

"Look, Kahl. You're a Jew, right?"

"Of course I'm a Jew!" Kyle fumed. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Cartman looked to be at a loss for words. His gaze traveled downwards, settling on a spot of carpet between him and Kyle.

"Well, Jews are good at business and stuff. And now that I'm a senator, I have lots of papers and shit to fill out all the time."

"Just what are you getting at, fatass?" Kyle narrowed his eyes.

"Would you consider, uh… becoming my… business manager?"

The redhead's jaw dropped. Cartman avoided his stare, continuing awkwardly.

"You'd have to stay here, of course, but I could figure out living arrangements. And I'd pay you, uh, about three times what you're making now," Cartman muttered, his brown hair falling thickly in front of his eyes.

Kyle's mind was a blank. He gaped at Cartman wordlessly, causing the other man to turn away with a blush.

"Just… Just think about it, okay?"

Cartman shot a final glance at Kyle, his face now as red as the Jew's hair. He straightened out his black jacket awkwardly, pushing open the revolving door marked 'Exit' with one hand.

Kyle stood frozen in that spot for what seemed like ages. The other customers in the lobby of the airport stared curiously in his direction for a few moments, but eventually lost interest and returned to their business.

"Flight 219 to Denver, Colorado will be departing shortly," a smooth female voice boomed over the intercom. "All passengers should wait in Terminal 12 for further boarding directions."

Flustered, the redhead grabbed his suitcase from the soggy carpet, jogging to his terminal in a panic.

A jagged flash of lightning briefly illuminated the gray city sky, followed by a long, low roll of thunder.

………………………………………………………………………………………………..

"Mr. B, what's wrong?" Andrea asked, her lip stuck out in a pouting expression. Kyle didn't notice her for a moment. His deep green eyes were fixed on the classroom window, watching the sheets of rain pour down mercilessly.

Memories of the previous day played themselves over and over again in the young man's mind.

_"Would you consider, uh… becoming my… business manager?"_

Kyle's emerald eyes glazed over, his mouth slightly open. A loud clap of thunder startled the man out of his dreamlike state.

"Oh, it's nothing. Why don't you go help Jackson with his project if you're already finished?" the teacher suggested, waving the girl away. She frowned, walking back to her seat.

"_I'd pay you, uh, about three times what you're making now."_

Kyle wasn't seriously considering this… Was he?

No, of course not. Kyle hated that stupid fatass with a passion. Why would he want to leave his safe haven for any reason, let alone to be in close proximity to his enemy? But strangely, although Cartman had been his normal, antagonistic self, something had seemed… different about him.

The man didn't even notice when the school bell rang, scattering the children from their seats. He leaned back in his chair, gazing through the rain-streaked window. The pitter-patter of raindrops on the tile roof of the school building rang monotonously through his mind.

Kyle was crazy. He was insane. He couldn't really do this.

Thoughts of all Kyle's long-lost ambitions bubbled up from his torrent of thought. This would be the opportunity of a lifetime, his one last chance.

Besides, maybe Cartan really had changed.

And maybe monkeys ruled the Earth. Kyle ignored the thought.

Pulling his red cell phone from his jeans pocket, the redhead slowly dialed in a 1-800 number, pressing send. After one ring, a perky voice answered. Kyle needed to get this over with.

"Hello, American Airlines?"

…………………………………………………………………………

Two days later, Kyle stepped out of a yellow taxi into a busy street. He sidestepped traffic, rolling his red suitcase behind him in determination. Several drivers honked, but he kept his eyes to the pavement.

The man paused on the side of the road for a moment, taking in his surroundings. He stood on the edge of a vast green lawn, amongst a crowd of pedestrians. An enormous white house stood not a hundred yards away.

Kyle grinned to himself. The sky was clear.

And that's how it all began.

……………………………………………………………………………….

A/N: This chapter is a beast. I love it. Did you notice my little attempt at symbolism?

If you hadn't realized by now, the first three chapters of this story were simply a prologue, leading into the real story. I'm planning for this to be pretty long, but the updates might not be as frequent from this point. Don't worry; they'll still be coming pretty regularly. Kenny will enter into the story later, along with a few other minor characters. Follow Kyle's story as he fights with Cartman, tries to avoid getting stuck with the laundry, and helps to change the world with his rival's campaign. Keep the reviews coming, baby!

PS: Lyric used for the chapter title is from the song 'Get Back' by Demi Lovato. It's fun to listen to the chapter song while you read. :D


	4. I Was Sitting, Waiting, Wishing

"**To truly know someone is to have loved and hated him in turn."**

**- Marcel Jouhandeau**

…………………………………………………………………………………………

"Have you finished my laundry, Kahl?" Cartman inquired innocently, seated at the breakfast table and clad in a fuzzy white robe.

"Do it yourself, fatass! I'm not your fucking maid!" Kyle shouted, a pile of papers in one hand and a steaming coffee mug in the other.

"I beg to differ, Kahl. You see, we have a contract," the fatass smiled in a simpering way, holding up a slightly tattered piece of paper. "Or is this not your signature? I _own_ you, Kahl."

Kyle rolled his eyes. It had been almost a week since he had taken a leave of absence at his teaching position and moved in with, of all people, Eric Cartman. He still had no idea what had come over him, thinking his childhood enemy had changed. Although Kyle had been offered the position of Cartman's business manager, the job was quickly turning into something more like 'Cartman's personal slave'.

"Oh, just shove it up your-"

"Now, now, Kahl. No need to get snippy with your employer," Cartman smirked, folding the contract tenderly for the umpteenth time.

Sighing, Kyle set the papers down on the kitchen table and handed the fatass his coffee.

"I finished all your paperwork and made your fucking coffee, douche bag. I'm going out," the redhead announced, grabbing his omnipresent orange jacket from the hook by the door. He stormed down the wooden spiral staircase, shaking his head in frustration. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Kyle came into a small room leading outside. He slipped on a pair of sneakers, pushing down the golden door handle.

"Ay! Be back in time to make me lunch," Cartman's voice traveled down the stairs.

"Like you need any more food, fatass!" Kyle shouted back by way of a farewell.

Kyle walked aimlessly along the streets of the gated community that Cartman lived in. Many very large, very tan houses lined the streets in every direction. Kyle hated this kind of neighborhood. No trees whatsoever.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

Some time later, Kyle found himself outside the apartment building of his best friend. Over the past few days, Cartman had been keeping Kyle so busy that he hadn't even had time to tell Stan what had happened. The redhead entered the building, riding the elevator to the tenth floor.

Kyle struggled to remember exactly which apartment belonged to Stan and Wendy. Was it 212? Or had it been 221? All of the wooden doors lining the narrow carpeted hallway looked exactly the same. Holding his breath, he knocked on the door of apartment 221. The voice of a young woman traveled through the door as it swung open.

"Yes, how may I help y- Oh, Kyle? What a surprise!" Wendy beamed. Her long black hair was tied back in a bun, and she wore a pink embroidered apron over her pajamas and slippers.

"Wendy, who is it?" the familiar voice of Stan Marsh called from another room.

"I think you'd better come see for yourself, sweetheart," Wendy called, looking bemused. She held the door open for Kyle, motioning for him to sit down on the leather sofa.

"Wait just one second, Hun, let me go change," the raven-haired woman declared, patting Kyle's shoulder comfortingly. She passed Stan in the doorway as he walked into the living room.

"Kyle? Hey, man! What are you doing back here so soon?" Stan exclaimed, sitting down on the couch next to his best friend.

The red-haired man sighed, putting his face in his pale hands.

"It's a really, really long story."

………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Several minutes later, Kyle finished his explanation of how exactly he had come to be employed by his worst enemy. Stan's jaw had dropped somewhere in the middle, and remained hanging open.

"Dude, are you fucking kidding me? This has to be a joke. You, work for Cartman?" Stan shook his head, a disbelieving expression on his face.

"I don't know what the hell came over me. I guess it's because he offered to pay me three times what I had been making as a teacher," Kyle replied, closing his eyes in frustration.

"But hey, dude, I guess this means we'll be seeing a lot more of each other from now on."

Stan's expression had changed from one of disbelief to a wide smile. He clapped the smaller man on the shoulder enthusiastically.

"I guess that's one way to look at it," Kyle grinned back.

……………………………………………………………………………………

After leaving Stan's apartment, Kyle didn't have the heart to force himself to return to Cartman's house. Instead, he walked around the city, exploring its seemingly endless shopping centers.

Kyle admired his reflection in the floor-length store mirror, turning around to see how the new black suit looked from the back. He smiled, happy with the fact that it fit him perfectly. Usually, it was nearly impossible for the redhead to find clothes that didn't hang off his tiny frame. Kyle changed out of the suit, walking it to the register.

A sour-looking middle-aged woman with a puckered face sat behind the counter. Emotionless, she took the pile of clothes out of Kyle's hands, running the tags under the scanner. A few moments later, she read the total from a small screen.

"That'll be two hundred and fifteen dollars," she announced dryly, holding out her wrinkled hand for Kyle's credit card.

Two hundred and fifteen dollars? Kyle's eyes widened in alarm. He hadn't even known that clothes could be so expensive. But, wait- he'd forgotten. With the up-front month's paycheck that Cartman had given him, Kyle could definitely afford to buy the suit. He could have afforded ten of them.

Grinning, he handed the woman his credit card. Kyle could get used to this.

Kyle ended up buying several more new outfits, enjoying his newfound wealth. He figured that, as the business manager of a senator, he deserved to at least look nice. A few hours later, the redhead sat outside of a small café, drinking a hot chocolate with whipped cream. Disappointed, he set the drink aside. It was slightly watery, and for the five dollars it had cost him, Kyle expected it to be at least as good as something Cartman could make-

Cartman? Shit. Kyle had nearly forgotten that he had promised to be back at his employer's home hours ago. He looked up at the sky in alarm. It was a dusky blue tinged with pink; the sun had just set.

Tossing his forgotten drink into a trashcan by the street, Kyle hailed a taxi.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Thirty minutes later, Kyle pushed open the tall white door to his enemy's house. He slipped off his new black shoes, laying down his shopping bags by the door.

"I'm home, fatass," Kyle called up the stairs tentatively.

He frowned when no retort came. Kyle had expected Cartman to be furious with him for being so late. Rolling his eyes, Kyle started up the stairs. What if the stupid fatass couldn't function without somebody to wait on his every beck and call?

What if he'd managed to do something stupid? Kyle's eyes widened slightly. He jogged up the stairs a little more quickly.

"Cartman, you there?"

Kyle looked around the kitchen in a slight panic. The familiar voice of his enemy didn't answer. He noticed with distress that the kitchen was a mess, covered in what seemed to be the remains of order-in Chinese food containers. Suddenly, he heard a slight noise. What was that?

It sounded like voices were emanating from the hallway. He walked toward the source of the noises quietly, stopping at Cartman's enormous bedroom. Curious, Kyle pushed open the door slightly, peeking in.

Cartman was sprawled out on his gray silk bed, fast asleep. It looked like he hadn't even bothered to change out of his pajamas all day. Empty chip bags were strewn around the floor. The television was on; that must have been what caused the noises Kyle had heard.

Kyle sighed. Why did he have to work for such a slob? He walked a little further into the room, picking up a few empty bags and tossing them into the small trashcan next to the mahogany dresser. Was Cartman really this helpless?

Snickering, Kyle noticed that Cartman seemed to have been watching an all-day Terrance and Philip marathon. He walked over to the bed, his feet sinking into the soft white carpet soundlessly.

"Kahl?"

The redhead jumped at the sound of Cartman's voice. He glanced down at his employer's sleeping face, relieved to find that he was still asleep. He was having a dream, maybe. The larger man curled up slightly in his sleep, wrapping his arms tightly around his body. Kyle noticed that he was shivering slightly.

On an impulse, Kyle reached for one of Cartman's silk blankets. He tucked it around the large man, blushing furiously. What had come over him? If the stupid fatass was to damn lazy to get his own blanket, then he deserved to be cold. Right?

Kyle's blush deepened as Cartman snuggled up in his sleep. How was it possible for someone so completely and thoroughly evil to look so innocent? The large man's long brown hair dangled in front of his gently closed eyes. Kyle resisted the urge to brush it aside.

_What the hell is wrong with me?_ thought Kyle. _I hate this guy, remember?_

Shaking his head wordlessly, Kyle turned the TV off. He shut the heavy door behind him quietly, trying to avoid waking the man sleeping not fifteen feet away.

Fifteen minutes later, the kitchen was finally clean. Kyle found himself wondering how it was even possible to find two Chinese food containers, one _Friends, Season 1_ DVD and a miniature gumball machine, all on top of the refrigerator.

Sighing, the redhead glanced around, looking instinctively for another mess to clean up. His eyes settled on the kitchen table, noticing with surprise that it was completely clean, except for one small bag placed at the head of the table. Kyle walked over to the bag curiously, peering into it.

Inside the bag were two containers of food. One seemed to be Teriyaki chicken, and the other was a small container of fried rice. A piece of paper was nestled beneath the plastic bag. Kyle slid the paper out, unfolding it curiously.

It seemed to be a note, addressed to him. Several words were scratched out at the beginning, but Kyle thought he could make out several familiar obscenities.

_Kyle, you dumbass Jew. Where the hell were you all fucking day? I ordered you Chinese. You owe me ten bucks._

_Eric_

Kyle scowled, wadding up the note and tossing it into the trash. Figures. Even though it appeared as though Cartman had been trying to make it seem like a kind gesture, Kyle knew that the stupid fatass wouldn't let him rest until he paid up.

It was only with slight surprise that Kyle realized that Cartman had, once again, managed to order one of Kyle's favorite foods. He sat down wearily, popping the lid off of the container of rice.

…………………………………………………………………………………..

Kyle woke up the next morning to the sound of Cartman's doorbell ringing. He turned over on the pullout couch that served as his bed, ignoring the noise. His housemate could get up of his fat ass for once and get the door.

"Kahl, answer the goddamn door," the voice of his employer rang through the house groggily.

"Get it yourself, fatass! Your room is closer," Kyle replied, pulling the covers tightly over his head.

"Kahl, I'm a senator, which means that you have to RESPECT MY FUCKING AUTHORITAH and answer the goddamn door!"

The redhead groaned, sliding out from under his blankets. He pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a tee shirt as the doorbell rang once again. Kyle looked at his digital watch- it read only seven thirty. What the hell did somebody want at seven thirty on a Sunday morning?

"Just a minute," Kyle yelled down the stairs as he ruffled his hair, trying to make himself look slightly more presentable. Jogging down the spiral staircase as quickly as he could, the redhead glanced out the window nonchalantly.

An enormous white stretch limousine was parked next to the sidewalk in front of Cartman's house. Startled, Kyle vaguely wondered if he should have at least put on some shoes before answering the door.

The outline of a tall figure was clearly visible through the distorted glass window that made up half of the front door. It seemed to be a man. The doorbell rang every few seconds, sending an annoying buzzing sound throughout the room.

"Alright, alright! I'm coming," Kyle proclaimed, coming to a stop in front of the door. He pushed down on the golden handle, pulling the door back into the room.

A tall, movie-star-handsome man clad in a pure white tuxedo stood on Cartman's doorstep, his hands behind his back. The man had a long mop of messy blond hair and sparkling blue eyes. Kyle wondered vaguely why somebody this important and famous-looking would want anything to do with Cartman.

"Hello, can I help you with something?" Kyle asked, still slightly confused.

"Does Eric Cartman live here, or was he just bullshitting me?"

Kyle was surprised at the obscenity. The man seemed to know Cartman, and unsurprisingly, not like him very much.

"Uh, yeah, he lives here. Do you want to come in?" Kyle asked, holding open the door for the blond man.

But the man just stood there for a moment, staring intently into Kyle's green eyes. He looked extremely confused. Kyle stared back uncomfortably. There was something familiar about those sparkling blue eyes.

The blond man spoke up first, scratching his head absently.

"Wait a second… Kyle? What the hell are you doing here?"

In that moment, something seemed to snap in Kyle's brain. His mouth hung open, and his green eyes traveled quickly between the man and the limousine, then back again.

"Kenny?!?"

..............................................................................................................................................

A/N: Ha, ha, ha, Alexandra. ANOTHER CLIFFHANGER. Now all my other awesome readers know who to blame for them. The song lyric for the title is from 'Sitting, Waiting, Wishing' by Jack Johnson.

First of all, let me thank all of you guys who have reviewed, especially XxLoveStanxX for her monster-long and really detailed comments. Your reviews motivate me so much :3

Oh ho ho, now Kenny's thrown into the mix! What does he want from Cartman? And will he still be dying every other day? Keep reading to find out!

~ Gina


	5. As If It's Written On My Face

"**Why is it that hate comes out so easily, yet… love? It gets trapped inside."**

**-Anonymous**

……………………………………………………………………………

"K-Kenny?" Kyle stuttered, not believing his eyes.

The tall blond man laughed, flipping his golden hair carelessly. Kyle couldn't believe he hadn't recognized his old friend sooner. Kenny flashed his trademark grin, the one that had made him so popular with the girls all those years ago in high school.

"Kyle! Hey, byotch! I should have known I'd find you here. I guess it was only a matter of time," Kenny smirked.

"W-What the hell are you talking about?" Kyle cursed inwardly as he felt his face grow warm. "What was a matter of time?"

"Oh, nothing," Kenny raised one eyebrow, turning to the side.

"Who the hell is it, Kahl?" a groggy voice asked. The redhead turned to see Cartman trudging down the wooden stairs, wearing only a pair of black sweatpants.

Kenny snorted, causing Kyle's blush to deepen. Although the sight of Cartman shirtless would have caused him to retch fifteen years ago, the large man now had well-toned abs. The redhead found himself staring for a moment, then remembered that he wasn't alone.

"Is this a… bad time?" Kenny asked with one hand clapped over his mouth. His blue eyes glittered with mischief, not missing Kyle's stare.

"Kenny! No! It's not like that," Kyle hissed, finally catching on. Cartman was rubbing his eyes sleepily, looking irritated.

"Kenny, what the hell do you want this time? It's seven in the fucking morning," Cartman asked calmly, stepping in front of Kyle. The large man leaned against the door frame, one hand resting on his hip.

"I just came to collect my hundred dollars that you owe me, Cartman. We did have a deal, didn't we?"

Kyle's confusion only grew as Cartman's own face turned red. The brown-haired man grabbed Kenny by the collar of his white jacket, whispering furiously into the blond's ear.

"Alright, what the hell is going on with you two?" Kyle demanded, crossing his skinny arms over his chest. "And Kenny, why are you even here? I thought you lived in Miami."

"Well, you see, Kyle, Cartman and I had this bet-"

"That's quite enough, Kenny!" Cartman exclaimed, clapping a hand over the blond man's mouth. Kyle noticed as Cartman discreetly pressed what appeared to be a wad of bills into the other man's hand. "You were just leaving, weren't you?"

"Hey, now! I haven't caught up with Kyle yet," Kenny complained, pushing Cartman's hand off his face.

"Well, that's just too bad, isn't it? Get the hell out of here, you poor piece of shit. Come on, Kahl," Cartman turned to head up the stairs.

"Hold on, fatass. You seem to be forgetting something," Kenny called up the staircase. "First of all, I'm about ten times richer than you. And second, since when has Kyle been _your_ bitch?"

Cartman was speechless.

"Since- what- Oh, just go to hell, Kenny. Do whatever you want."

"Thanks, fatass. I will. Come on, Kyle, let's get out of here."

Kyle found himself being pulled out the door by his old friend, staggering from speed every few seconds. The blond man gripped Kyle by the elbow, dragging him in the direction of the white limousine. The redhead's bare feet felt cold on the gray pavement of Cartman's long driveway.

Kenny only loosened his death grip on Kyle's arm when they were safely in the back of the long white car.

"Where to, Mr. McCormick?" a snooty-sounding voice inquired from the driver's seat.

"Who the hell is that, Kenny?" Kyle whispered.

"Oh, him? That's just my driver, Johnston. He kicks ass," Kenny whispered back, grinning.

"Mr. McCormick?" the voice persisted.

"Oh, I don't care, Johnston. Just drive," Kenny ordered. The British-sounding man turned to face the road, a disapproving look on his face. The white limo slowly picked up speed, exiting the gated community and merging onto the highway.

After it seemed that his driver was no longer paying attention, Kenny quietly pulled down the glass screen between the back seats and the driver's compartment.

"So, Kyle. Why exactly were you at Cartman's house so early in the morning?" Kenny winked, sending a twinge of irritation through Kyle.

"For your information, I work for him now," Kyle replied snippily. He immediately regretted his choice of words when Kenny snickered.

"I'm his business manager, you dirty pervert! It's a live-in position," the redhead scowled, trying to avoid meeting Kenny's eyes.

The two were silent for a few minutes. Kyle kept his gaze to the road, ignoring Kenny. The blond seemed to be pondering something. Eventually, Kyle's curiosity got the best of his anger, and he spoke.

"So, Kenny. Uh, how have you been? You know, since you won the lottery?"

"Well, I guess it's needless to say that things have been a lot better. Once I had my parents all set, I put most of my money into getting the things I'd always wanted. You know, a big house with a pool? My own personal Hooters? Anything a guy could ever need," Kenny joked.

Kyle noticed that even as the blond laughed, his eyes looked a little bit sad.

"Anyway, after I'd bought everything I could have possibly wanted, I guess I just got a little… bored. I came up here a couple of weeks ago to antagonize Cartman, and… Well, it was just so much fun being around one of my old friends again, I kind of, well, couldn't leave."

Kenny rested his chin in the palm of his hand thoughtfully. Kyle frowned slightly; even though it had been a long time since he'd seen his old friend, something still seemed… off.

"Kenny?" Kyle murmured thoughtfully.

"Hm?" The blond man turned to look at his friend.

"Money can't buy everything."

Kenny grinned halfheartedly, looking in the other direction.

"I know."

There was silence for another few minutes as the two friends sat, both thinking. Kyle leaned back into the limo's luxurious leather interior, inhaling the still-noticeable new car smell. Suddenly, Kenny's face seemed to light up. He shushed the red-haired man, pulling out a ball of notebook paper from the front pocket of his shirt.

"Watch this," the blond whispered, pulling up the glass screen between him and the driver as quietly as possible.

Kyle watched curiously as Kenny tore the piece of paper into several little individual strips, then rolling the strips into balls. Nonchalantly, the blond flicked a small wad of paper at the driver. It landed in the man's shiny black hair, sticking firmly.

_Now you try,_ mouthed Kenny. Kyle grinned, tearing off a few strips of paper for himself.

The two friends spent a happy hour or so quietly flicking paper balls into the driver's hair, struggling to hold in their laughter as the tiny white dots accumulated. Every so often the driver would shake his head slightly, sending the paper wads flying in every direction.

Kyle was extremely content to sit in silence with his friend, playing games on unsuspecting adults the way they always used to. Kenny hadn't changed much since high school, aside from getting slightly taller and a whole lot richer. He still had the same mischievous spirit as always.

Only one thing was missing, though- Kenny's orange anorak. It was strange; when the jacket had grown too small for the boy and been discarded, Kenny's frequent deaths had simply stopped. Sure, he still died every once in a while, but would always be back in a matter of days. It was one of those mysteries of the universe that Kyle assumed simply should not be questioned.

Some time later, the two men were still. Kenny had run out of paper balls to flick at his driver. The limousine pulled into Cartman's neighborhood, stopping for a moment at the entrance booth. Pulling to a stop in front of the tan house that Kyle now lived in, the red-haired man began to open the car door. He felt a hand on his elbow, pulling him back down.

"What the hell, Kenny?" Kyle muttered, confused for what seemed like the hundredth time that day.

"Hold on a second. I have something to tell you," Kenny explained, his eyes wide with mirth. "You know that bet I was talking about? The one I made with Cartman?"

Whispering loudly into Kyle's ear, Kenny handed the other man one of the bills Cartman had surrendered earlier. Kyle took it without any questions, folding the bill carefully into the palm of his hand. His green eyes grew wider and wider as Kenny spilled Cartman's embarrassing story.

"And don't forget to give him that twenty back," Kenny snickered, shutting the white limousine door.

Kyle waved happily to the back of Kenny's limo as it sped off into the distance. The redhead's sides shook with laughter as he made his way to the door. He glanced into the garage, checking to make sure his rival's car was still parked there. It was.

Kyle bit his lip, struggling to keep a straight face as he walked up the stairs leading to the kitchen. Cartman was seated at the kitchen table, reading a newspaper. Kyle snickered as the memory of what Kenny had told him made its way back into his mind.

"What the hell's so funny, jackass?" Cartman demanded, flipping the page of his paper roughly.

"Oh, nothing," Kyle's face was turning red from the effort of holding in his laughter. "Kenny said to give you this."

The redhead held out the folded twenty-dollar bill, watching with delight as Cartman's expression slowly morphed from confusion to intense embarrassment. His wide face turned an uncomfortable shade of puce, and the newspaper hung in two pieces from Cartman's white-knuckled hands.

"GODDAMNIT, KENNY, YOU POOR PIECE OF SHIT!"

…………………………………………………………………

Things had been slightly awkward around the house for a few days following Kenny's unexpected appearance. Cartman had been avoiding Kyle, barely speaking to the redhead at all except when requesting something.

On Wednesday night, Kyle walked out of the bathroom after a shower wearing a tee shirt and jeans. His curly red hair hung limply, dripping water onto the back of his gray cotton shirt to form a large V-shaped stain.

Kyle walked into the kitchen, opening one of the wooden cabinets built into the wall to grab a plastic cup. He turned on the sink, running one hand under the water until it grew cold enough. When the small blue cup was filled, Kyle tipped his head back to drink the cold water inside.

Cartman wandered into the kitchen as Kyle rinsed out the plastic cup, putting it back into place on the wooden shelf. The large man stood awkwardly in the center of the room, hands folded behind his back.

"What do you want, fatass?" Kyle inquired not unpleasantly. Cartman glanced up, fixing his brown eyes on the ceiling.

"I'm going out," he muttered.

Cartman was wearing the same suit he'd had on the day Kyle had met him in the airport. The large man's light brown hair was neatly combed, but his black tie hung at an odd angle.

"Oh? Where to?" asked Kyle, mildly curious. His employer tended to spend evenings in. "Hot date?"

Cartman snorted, pushing his brown hair roughly to the side.

"Campaign dinner. I'm meeting with the other candidates for Governor to do an interview," he answered.

"Will there be cameras involved?" the redhead wondered, raising one eyebrow.

"I dunno, probably. There's going to be a news team there. Why the hell do you want to know, you dumb Jew?"

"Well, you can't exactly go on the news looking like that!" Kyle pointed out loudly. Cartman frowned in confusion.

"What do you mean, looking like that? I'm wearing a fucking tuxedo!" the taller man exclaimed, self-consciously ruffling his hair.

"Ugh. Stand still," Kyle ordered, grabbing Cartman's sleeve. "You're screwing up your hair."

Kyle relished the look of embarrassment on his employer's face as he pushed the man's soft brown hair gently back into place. Stepping back to analyze the effect, the redhead looked quizzically at Cartman.

"Hm… I don't know. Something's still missing," Kyle decided. "Oh, I know. Your tie's screwed up. Can't you do anything right?"

Cartman scowled, hastily unfastening the black tie. He held out the piece of cloth with one hand, watching Kyle expectantly.

"Well? Aren't you going to fix it for me?" the taller man asked, his cheeks tinged slightly red.

Kyle smiled slightly, taking the tie from the other man. He straightened out the silk cloth, pushing down a small wrinkle. Reaching around Cartman's head, he wrapped the tie around the other man's neck gently.

"Dude, you're so fucking helpless," Kyle chuckled, fixing the knot in place and straightening out his employer's collar.

"Shut the hell up," Cartman muttered, shoving both hands in his pockets.

The smaller man smirked as Cartman pulled on his jacket, heading for the stairs. Moments later, he could hear the door swing shut as the other man left.

Kyle collapsed onto the couch, sighing heavily. He was still for a moment, gazing out the open window. The city seemed to sparkle even more brightly in the clear moonlight. Spring was here for sure; the green buds that covered the trees had burst into millions of tiny leaves that glistened in the darkness.

Wait a second- WHAT THE HELL HAD KYLE JUST DONE?!?

Fixing Cartman's hair and straightening his tie? What the hell was wrong with him? It would have been hilarious to see the fatass go on television looking like a homeless guy in a tux!

Lately though, things concerning Cartman had started becoming less and less funny. It was strange.

But wait! Kyle burst into laughter at the memory of what Kenny had told him just a few days ago.

……………………………………………………………….

_"You know that bet that I was talking about? The one I made with Cartman?" Kenny asked, cocking one eyebrow._

_"Yeah, what about it?" Kyle replied, tilting his head curiously. Kenny pulled closer, whispering into the redhead's ear._

_"I bet him a hundred dollars that he couldn't get laid once in a whole month."_

_Kyle's eyes widened._

_"He lost."_

_Kyle burst into silent laughter, clapping a hand over his mouth when the driver glanced disdainfully in his direction._

_"And guess what else?" Kenny paused, waiting for Kyle to say something._

_"What?" Kyle asked, moving in a little closer to Kenny. He didn't want to miss a single word._

_"He gave me an extra twenty bucks not to tell you about it," the blond man giggled. He pressed a bill into Kyle's hand._

_"Also, you can't tell the fatass about this, but I decided to buy a house up here. Things are so much more interesting when I'm around you guys," Kenny admitted, ruffling Kyle's red hair jokingly._

_"That's great, man," Kyle replied, beaming._

_Kenny grinned back, shutting the door to his limousine. The blond man rolled down the window as he drove away, shouting one final message to his friend._

_"Don't forget to give Cartman his twenty back."_

……………………………………………………………………

A/N: This was a nice little chapter to write. I love Kenny so much; he's so evil to poor Cartman. And Cartman, judging by the bet, is a poor, poor guy indeed.

It might be a few days until the next chapter. I've been spoiling you guys with my daily updates, sometimes even twice daily. Oh well, it was a snow day today and I had time. Lyric for the title is from 'Pieces Of Me' by Ashlee Simpson.

Please review! Thanks for sticking with me up until this point!


	6. All The Lights That Lead Us There

"Love sees sharply, hate even more so. But jealously sees by far the sharpest, for it is love and hate at the same time."

**Arabian Proverb**

……………………………………………………………………………….

"Hey, fatass," Kyle yelled down the hallway. "Come and watch this! You're on the news!"

It had been two days since Kyle had straightened out Cartman's tie. He'd been trying to ignore the incident, and it seemed Cartman had, too. Thinking about his strange, almost motherly impulse still brought a slight flush of pink to Kyle's cheeks. At least their relationship had returned to normal. Usual, rather. The constant fighting that erupted in the Cartman household wasn't exactly what Kyle thought of as 'normal'.

Pushing the thought aside, the redhead snuggled up into the black leather sofa in the living room, trying to get comfortable. What was the point of leather furniture, anyway? It just got your ass cold whenever you sat down on it.

Kyle could hear water running in the bathroom. His employer's towel-covered head peeked out from behind the door fifteen feet away, dripping water onto the white carpet.

"What for?" the brown-haired man's voice yelled back irately. "I'm just getting out of the fucking shower!"

"Well, hurry the hell up. I think it's your interview from last week."

The living room fan ruffled Kyle's red hair comfortingly, sending a cool evening breeze throughout the spacious room. It was one of the least cluttered in Cartman's entire house. The only furniture was the leather sofa, a television, and a new videophone that Kenny had sent Kyle as a welcoming present. The monitor was rather large, about twenty inches across in either direction.

_Jesus Christ, Kenny could afford the coolest shit, _Kyle thought with a slight pang of jealousy.

Cartman's enormous plasma-screen television was playing the news report from channel seven. A very short Italian-looking man was introducing the candidates in the running for Colorado governor. Kyle's employer could be clearly seen seated at a long wooden table, directly across from an extremely attractive woman.

Small captions rolled across the screen beneath both of the candidates, displaying their names in bold yellow lettering. _Eric Cartman_, the screen flashed briefly. The caption for his opponent read _Scarlett Winston_.

Scarlett Winston? That was one rich-ass name. And the woman's looks matched it, too. Kyle frowned. The woman looked to be about thirty-five, and had shoulder-length brown hair that stood perfectly in place. The small figure onscreen flipped her hair flirtatiously, talking with the reporter in a bubbly voice.

"Ms. Winston, would you care to tell the folks back home why you are running for the position of Governor?" The news reporter asked, running one hand through his sleek black hair.

"Well, I think it's a statement for women everywhere that someone like me can even be here today," Winston exclaimed, playing with her silver bracelet. "I just wanted to, you know, show the world what I've got?"

There was something strange about this woman. Behind the dumb-blonde façade, something… else seemed to show through. An almost menacing look sparkled in her perky brown eyes, quickly covered up by a wave of her perfectly manicured hands.

Kyle brushed the thought aside, curling up tighter under his fuzzy green blanket. Maybe he was wrong about the woman. Everybody had some good in them, right?

Well, almost everybody. The redhead frowned.

At that moment, the very person Kyle was thinking about made his way into the living room, scowling. Cartman was dressed in an oversized navy blue t-shirt and shorts, rubbing his hair dry with a soft white towel.

"Hey, Cartman. Who's that?" Kyle asked with a quizzical look, pointing to the glamorous woman who was now flirting with the reporter onscreen.

"Oh, her? Just some dumb bitch. What was her name again? Red something?" the man replied, trying to look casual. He flipped down on the leather couch a few feet away. Kyle decided to let the matter drop.

Winston frowned cutely as the reporter made his way over to the filmed Cartman. The large man onscreen smiled in that charming way he did whenever crowds were involved. Kyle noticed with amusement that the hairstyle he had tried to fix several nights ago was once again mussed. He snorted.

"What's so funny, Jew?" demanded Cartman, not missing the redhead's amused expression.

Kyle bit his lip, not answering. The Cartman onscreen was starting his interview.

"So, Mr. Cartman. What exactly made you decide to try for this prestigious government position?" the well-groomed reporter inquired, shoving a microphone in the other man's face.

"Well, I just feel that there is so much good that I could do for the world. You know, help starving children in Africa? Cure AIDS? The usual," Cartman replied, suddenly looking and sounding quite suave.

Kyle's eyes widened. Almost all traces of his employer's southern drawl were erased from his voice, replaced by a sharp East Coast-sounding accent. It didn't suit him, Kyle thought silently.

"And what are your thoughts on environmentalism? This will be a major focus point in the upcoming election," the reporter commented, holding the microphone so the other man could speak into it.

Kyle noticed that the Cartman sitting near him on the couch suddenly grew quiet, crossing his arms smugly. His onscreen counterpart eagerly accepted the microphone from the reporter, drawing in a breath as if to say something of monumental importance.

"I assume, sir, that you are referring to something horrible that needs to be dealt with swiftly and harshly. A global terror that will haunt us all until something is done. I am talking, of course, about hippies."

The redhead smacked his pale forehead silently as Cartman smirked, watching his onscreen version continue his 'speech'. How did the fatass always manage to get away with things like this? Sure, he had a natural charisma, but this was just crossing the line. Nobody would stand for a hate speech being broadcasted on the news.

"You asshole. You stupid, stupid asshole," Kyle remarked, rubbing his temples with the palm of his hand. Cartman simply raised an eyebrow, seeming to be waiting for something.

"These dangerous radicals are a bad influence on the young population of America. They claim to want to change the world, but all they do is smoke pot and play Frisbee. To everybody listening to this interview, I simply wish to issue a warning. If by any chance you spot a hippie playing music in the streets of the city, do not feed it. Do not pay any attention whatsoever. And most of all, never, ever drop change into their empty instrument cases. They feed off of your pity." Cartman sat back down, handing the microphone to a stunned-looking reporter.

"See, dumbass? You pissed him off," Kyle shook his head, picking up the remote. His companion shushed him quietly, focusing on the screen.

"Well, Mr. Cartman, I think your words of wisdom are echoed in many cities all over the country. Thank you for the wonderful comments!" the reporter beamed.

Kyle's forehead landed in his palm once again, leaving a faint pink hand-shaped mark.

"How the hell do you do that?" the redhead demanded, turning away from the television in sheer astonishment.

"What exactly would you be referring to, Kahl?" Cartman inquired, widening his warm brown eyes in the picture of innocence.

Kyle huffed, turning away from the other man. He pulled the green fleece blanket in closer, shivering slightly.

"You know perfectly well what I'm talking about, you manipulative bastard. How do you always manage to convince people that you're right?"

"Well, Kahl, it's a skill you pick up after a while. You see, people are like sheep. All you have to do is learn how to say things in a way that doesn't offend their delicate sensibilities, and you've got them eating out of your hands," the brown-haired man explained smugly, stretching his muscular arms behind him lazily.

"Delicate sensibilities, my ass. You know what? I'm not watching any more of this crap. Give me the remote, fatass. _House_ is on in five minutes," Kyle commanded, extending one hand for the remote control that Cartman was holding.

The man ignored Kyle, absorbed in his onscreen figure now spouting something about Jewish people taking over the financial industry. The brainless reporter was listening with rapt attention, nodding every few moments.

"I said give me the remote, you fucking moron! Now hand it over!" Kyle nearly shouted. The blanket fell to his knees, causing an involuntary shudder of cold to pass through his slim body.

Cartman seemed to sense Kyle's irritation, smiling menacingly. He turned to face the smaller man, but fixed his gaze on the ceiling in a maddening show of indifference.

"Pray tell, Kahl. What exactly would happen if I refused to give it to you?" Cartman asked, twirling the thin piece of plastic around in his large hands. The man had an infuriating grin plastered across his newly-shaven face.

Kyle punched Cartman in the side of his smirking face. It made a satisfying impact.

"Quit it, Kahl," the man whined as Kyle delivered a series of blows to the arm holding the remote control out of reach.

Kyle lunged across the couch towards the other man, reaching for the remote. Cartman stood up, holding it over his head slightly out of Kyle's reach. The redhead fumed, pushing the larger man down onto the carpet with one elbow.

"What the fuck was that for, you Jew asshole?" Cartman whined, rubbing his head. His brown eyes dropped open, fixing on the slim man currently pinning him to the ground.

Kyle's mouth hung slightly open. In his leap to reach the remote control, the force he had exerted proved to be too much. The redhead lay sprawled on the ground, one hand gripping the remote control tightly. The other was clutching Cartman's thick wrist, immobilizing him underneath Kyle.

"I- Uh, the- remote?" Kyle stuttered, attempting to disentangle his legs from Cartman's.

Both men wore shorts, causing Kyle's heart to skip at the unintended contact. Cartman lay on the ground silently, breathing heavily from the commotion. The man's damp brown hair was splayed messily on the carpet underneath him.

But suddenly, Kyle had the strangest thought.

He couldn't quite bring himself to untangle his body from Cartman's. The other man was warm and soft, and very comfortable. Kyle even thought he could smell his employer's shampoo, green apple, maybe-

_Holy shit!_

What was Kyle thinking? He quickly sat up, pulling his hands off Cartman's wrists. Suddenly, a beeping noise sounded from the other side of the room. Both men looked around, startled.

The noise seemed to be coming from Kenny's videophone. Suddenly, a familiar face appeared on the monitor, grinning hugely at the interesting sight he was met with.

"Is this a bad time?" the blond asked, cocking one eyebrow.

Kyle self-consciously glanced down, realizing that he was still straddling Cartman. Cursing inwardly, he scrambled to his feet, leaving a slightly out-of-breath fatass sprawled across the floor.

"Kenny! Goddamnit, you asshole, why do you always do this?" Cartman complained, sitting up hastily.

"No worries, I'll call back. Sorry for the interruption!" Kenny giggled mischievously, flicking off his webcam. The screen went black, leaving a bewildered Kyle and Cartman standing next to each other on the carpet.

"GODDAMNIT, KENNY! THAT'S NOT WHAT I MEANT! GET BACK HERE, YOU POOR ASSHOLE!"

Kyle sank back into the couch, defeated. Maybe he could still catch the first few minutes of _House_.

"Oh, shit! SHIT! I forgot about the fucking meeting! Get dressed, you dumb Jew, I have to bring you with me to the press conference!" Cartman barreled down the hallway to his room, throwing several pillows behind him hastily.

No such luck.

…………………………………………………………….

"Tell me again, fatass. Where exactly are we going?" Kyle huffed, crossing his arms and sinking back into the passenger's seat of the car.

"Would you shut the hell up for five seconds? I already told you, like, a thousand times, dumbass. I forgot that I had a business meeting tonight."

"Why the hell do I have to come, then? It's your meeting, isn't it?"

"My business manager needs to be there to handle all the, you know, menial tasks," Cartman explained, his eyes focused on the brightly lit highway.

Kyle Broflovski was not happy. In the slightest. After Cartman had sprung the meeting on him, forced him to dress in his best suit, and dragged him into the car all in less than ten minutes, the redhead was decidedly worse for the wear.

Plus, _House_ was almost over and he hadn't even gotten to find out what episode was playing.

The sleek black Mercedes pulled to a shaky stop in front of a tall, important-looking building in the center of the city. Cartman slid out of the car quickly, leaving Kyle a few paces behind. Jogging slightly to catch up, the redhead slammed the car door behind him.

The walkway leading to the entrance of the building was impressive. Small statues and miniature gardens lined the cobblestone path, lending it a decidedly Victorian look. A single, slightly creepy gnome stood adjacent to the steps. The building itself was tall, constructed of white-painted stone. Two scalloped pillars framed the doorway that the two men stood before.

Cartman pushed open the door smoothly, straightening his tie and running one hand through his hair. Kyle followed curiously, entering into an enormous marble lobby. Dozens of important-looking people milled around, holding drinks and chatting.

Cartman merged into a small group of older, business-type men, excusing himself politely for 'the inconvenient delay'. Rolling his eyes, Kyle walked to the bar to buy himself a drink. The small, cloth-covered table serving as a bar was being worked by two cute young women who giggled and waved at Kyle as they handed him a margarita. He glanced back at Cartman every few seconds, instinctively expecting some sort of mayhem to be occurring.

It was strange. The man Kyle had known for so many years as being rude and abrasive was now chatting politely with a group of young women. Reporters buzzed around him in a swarm, pushing to get a few inches closer to the man. How did somebody so disgusting manage to be so… charming?

Kyle felt a tap on his shoulder. Surprised, he turned to find a slightly familiar-looking woman standing behind him. She was petite, slightly shorter than Kyle himself. Long, rich brown hair reached her shoulders, curling up slightly at the ends. She was dressed in a sharp, fashionable red business suit. Where had Kyle seen her before?

"Hi, sweetie," the woman piped girlishly. "Can I borrow you for a moment?"

Suddenly, Kyle remembered why he recognized the woman. He was talking to Scarlett Winston, the candidate for Governor. Straightening up slightly, he turned to speak.

"Um, how may I help you, ma'am?" Kyle asked politely, folding his hands in front of his stomach. The woman giggled.

"Oh, you don't need to call me ma'am, darling. You can call me Scarlett," she insisted, waving her hand dismissively. "Anyway, dear- what was your name again?"

"Kyle. Kyle Broflovski," he muttered, feeling a sudden wave of irritation. The woman's eyes widened in surprise, then crinkled up in a false smile.

"You're the famous Kyle Broflovski? Business manager to Eric Cartman?" she inquired sweetly.

"Uh, yeah… How do you know my name?" Kyle wondered, nervously pulling at the collar of his suit. This woman made him uneasy.

"Don't you know? Eric talks about you simply all the time," Scarlett giggled, stretching out the name.

Eric? Since when did anybody call Cartman _Eric_?

"Well, I came over here to ask your opinion on the drinks, but I must admit I'm glad you've proven to be a much more interesting toy."

Kyle's eyes narrowed. He liked the woman less and less with every word that slipped out of her shining ruby lips.

"As you know, Kyle, I'm in the running for Colorado governor. Do me a teensy little favor, won't you, sweetheart?" She leaned in closer, placing one hand on Kyle's shoulder. He recoiled slightly at her touch, but forced himself to keep a polite expression.

"Tell _Eric dear _that when it comes to competitions, I'm not afraid to play a little… dirty." Scarlett drew out the last word, running a slender finger down Kyle's nose.

Eyes glinting, the woman turned and sauntered away. Kyle watched as she ordered another drink from the makeshift bar, throwing an occasional satisfied glance his way. This woman wasn't dumb, no, anything but. She was dangerous.

Kyle stood quite alone on the marble floor, feeling a sudden sense of dread in the pit of his stomach.

……………………………………………………………….

A/N: Sorry about the long wait for such a crappy chapter. I got really sick over the weekend and had to stay in bed, so I couldn't get much writing done. This chapter is long, though, so I hope it sort of makes up for it. Lyric for the title is from 'Wonderwall' by Oasis. Best. Song. Ever.

Anyway. I watched a whole lot of Planet Unicorn and listened to 'Best Day Ever' from SpongeBob during the making of this chapter, so if it sounds like I was on crack, it's not *really* my fault. I like _House_ and share Kyle's sentiments about leather furniture. Scarlett pisses me off even though she will be important later in the story. I want to reach into the computer and give her a big ol' bitch slap.

Sorry about the rant. The remote scene was Alex's idea. If it's crap, you know who to blame. :D


	7. I Feel So Untouched

**"Oh, you hate your job? There's a support group for that. It's called EVERYBODY, and they meet at the bar."**

**-Drew Carey**

………………………………………………………….

_Friday, May 15__th__._

Kyle ripped the square white sheet off the desk calendar in his makeshift 'office'. May 15th. It had been exactly one month since he had come to work for his old childhood nemesis. The redhead balled up the small square of paper, tossing it across the room into a small wire wastebasket.

The office Cartman had provided wasn't really half bad. It was a small room on the ground floor of the home, complete with a desk, chair, and various other small pieces of furniture. The only downside was that, since there was only one small window, it got painfully hot and humid during the day. But Kyle didn't dare complain to his rival.

_He'd probably just call me a Jewish pussy and laugh in my face, _Kyle thought with a slight roll of his eyes. Cartman was always pulling dumb crap like that. Why couldn't he just grow up?

But that interview. Speaking on camera, he'd sounded different, almost… mature. It didn't mean anything, though. Probably just Cartman trying to 'subdue the masses'. In the month that Kyle had been living with him, it had seemed like Cartman was trying to make up years of lost time to torment and humiliate the redhead.

He sighed, returning to the monotonous task of filling out Cartman's extensive paperwork. Where was it all coming from, anyway? The fatass never did anything for himself, let alone menial office tasks.

The wide ceiling fan spun slowly, sending an almost tauntingly faint breeze circulating throughout the small white room. Kyle's pale forehead was shiny with sweat, causing his red curls to fall limply against the side of his face. The fact that he was wearing sweatpants didn't exactly help, either. Defeated, he stood to turn up the power of the fan.

The blades spun slightly faster, gathering speed quickly. Soon Kyle realized he had made a mistake, and ran to turn down the power of the rapidly spinning blades. But it was too late; the papers he had been sorting for Cartman were scattered all over the hardwood floor.

Shit. Now he'd never finish in time to go do something with Stan. The two had been planning to go out and celebrate Kyle's first month of Washington. Gathering up the stacks of paper, Kyle was relieved to see that most of them were still in order. He checked his new Rolex watch.

_7:47, _the small golden hands spelled out.

Good. That meant there was still time to finish working and get out of the house before the fatass got home and started demanding that Kyle make him dinner. Again.

……………………………………………………

About an hour later, Kyle shoved the completed stack of papers into a pile on the kitchen counter. He straightened the collar of his crisp white shirt, grabbing a crisp red apple from a wooden bowl on the kitchen table. Pulling on the hem of his dark jeans, the redhead jogged down the stairs. Stan had said to meet him at some place called _The Vault _at nine.

Kyle pushed down the handle of the door, mildly surprised when it swung back into his face. Cartman walked into the house nonchalantly, smirking when he saw Kyle rubbing his nose gingerly.

"Hey, Jew. Where the hell do you think you're going?" Cartman asked, nodding at Kyle's new clothes. The brown haired man hung his black leather jacket on a hook by the door, turning to face his employee with a condescending expression.

"I'm going out with Stan. Get the hell out of my way, fatass. You're going to make me late," Kyle snapped, sliding the sleeve of his sweatshirt over his thin arm.

"I don't think so, Kahl. Did you finish all of my paperwork?" Cartman raised an eyebrow evilly.

"It's on the counter, you asshole. Now move."

Cartman grinned, stepping in front of the doorway to block Kyle from leaving.

"Just humor me, Kahl. Now, how exactly do you think you're going to get to the place? You don't have a car, and I'm sure as hell not letting you drive mine. That shit cost more than this house," the man informed, twirling a set of keys around his finger.

It was true. Kyle had thought he might call a cab, but not many drivers would come into a residential area on such short notice. He was stuck.

Cartman's eyes lit up, seeing that he was right. He grabbed the apple from Kyle's hand, taking a huge bite out of it as he slid his jacket back on. Jingling the key ring, Cartman motioned for Kyle to follow him out the door.

"You are so going to owe me for this, Kahl. Now get your Jewish ass in the car."

…………………………………………

_Why do these things always happen to me?_ Kyle thought, crossing his arms with a foul expression. After ten minutes of working out how Kyle was going to repay him for a ride to the club (three weeks of laundry duty), the fatass had _finally_ started the car. They had finally pulled into the parking lot at nine-fifteen, Kyle scrambling to get out the door before Cartman even parked.

The neon sign resting above the entrance to the dark-looking club read _The Vault, _accompanied by a huge light-up skeleton key logo_. _Loud music could be heard coming from inside the building. Kyle pushed open the doors, not bothering to wait for his employer to follow.

The lighting inside of the large room was dim. People in their twenties and thirties gathered around the bar and tables, drinking and laughing. The dance floor was buzzing with motion. Kyle strained to pick out a familiar mop of black hair from the large crowd. His ears ached slightly from the blaring music.

"Kyle? Hey, man, you're late!"

The voice was familiar, but not the one Kyle had been expecting. He turned to find an inconspicuously dressed Kenny, one girl under each arm.

"Oh! H-Hey, Kenny," Kyle greeted his friend in amusement. The girl under Kenny's right arm giggled.

"Hey, ladies, I'll meet you later, okay?" the blond man promised, releasing the two busty women from his grip. They waved seductively, stalking off to presumably find another man who would pay for their drinks.

"Stan and I got a table in the back. Where's Cartman?" Kenny asked, brushing off his shoulders. He was wearing a baggy black sweatshirt and jeans, things that Kyle suspected Kenny had owned in high school.

"He's parki- Wait, how did you know that Cartman was here?" Kyle demanded, crossing his thin arms over his chest.

"Oh, I dunno. How else were you gonna get here on time?" Kenny brushed off the question, grabbing Kyle's wrist and pulling him through the crowd of dancers.

Kyle shuddered when a skimpily dressed woman grabbed his shoulder drunkenly. Why did he always get dragged into going to sleazy places like this? He had never been much of a dancer, either. For some reason, clubs had just never really appealed to him.

"Hey, Kyle! Sit down!" Stan waved from a nearby table. Kenny dragged Kyle the last few feet, finally sitting down on the worn leather couch-seat roughly. Stan looked as if he'd had a few drinks. Although, Kyle noticed with suspicion, Kenny looked completely sober. The blond had out his Blackberry, busily punching in a text message to a number Kyle didn't know.

Wait a second- _555-555-5555?_ Did that number even exist?

"Want a drink, man?" Kenny asked Kyle, hurriedly shoving the Blackberry into his sweatshirt pocket. Kyle decided not to ask about the phone number. "It's on me."

"Sure," the redhead muttered, scanning the noisy crowd for Cartman's face. Kenny pulled a waitress aside, ordering a round of beers. The woman smiled, dragging her hand over Kenny's shoulder as she went to get their drinks.

Jesus Christ. How did Kenny do that to every single woman he met? The blond had the most experience with girls out of anybody Kyle had ever known. Stan had only gone out with Wendy, and who knew about the fatass, but Kyle had admittedly never had a girlfriend. Sure, he'd gone on dates, but it had just never worked out. But it seemed that Kenny had a new girlfriend every time he went out.

"WHAT THE HELL, KAHL? It took me forever to find a fucking parking spot!" Cartman slid into the seat next to his employee, looking furious and out of breath. Kyle snapped out of his thoughts for long enough to shoot the fatass a withering glare.

"Holy hell! Is that you, Cartman? I didn't know you were coming," Stan nearly shouted in surprise and, to Kyle's annoyance, excitement.

"Yeah, well, if your stupid friend here hadn't made me give him a ride I wouldn't be here." Cartman looked embarrassed as Stan studied his new appearance.

"Dude! You look awesome! How much weight have you lost? And check out that sweet watch!" Stan exclaimed, not pausing for breath. Cartman allowed himself a small grin.

"Yeah, well, it was easier to pay for all my cool shit before I hired this asshole," he muttered, nudging Kyle with his elbow. Kenny and Stan chuckled when Kyle jabbed Cartman's side in retaliation. The redhead grinned with pride when his nemesis doubled over in pain.

"I guess you guys aren't as different as you look," Kenny muttered, looking away with a small smile. Kyle's mouth hung open with wounded pride.

The waitress from earlier stopped by the table with a round of beers. She giggled as Kenny slipped her a small tip, waving behind her back.

The four men each took a drink, bickering good-naturedly. The next hour was filled with cheerful conversation about their new lives and memories from their shared childhood years. The waitress brought out a few more rounds every once in a while. Kyle began to feel a bit woozy as Stan recounted the story of when they all tricked Cartman into thinking he was dead.

"And then you and Butters sent Scott Tenorman and all them fruit baskets? Dude, that was fucking hilarious!"

"Shut up, you asshole," Cartman snapped. But he didn't really look angry; he looked amused. Almost happy. Over the past hour, Kyle had watched with interest as his employer's demeanor changed from disguised shyness to his obnoxious and confident persona of fifteen years ago.

"Dude, Butters was such a fag," Kenny interjected. He still seemed completely sober, even after six beers. Cartman looked pretty normal, too. But Stan was completely and thoroughly wasted. Kyle himself felt a little drunk as well. The blaring music from the dance floor was giving him a headache.

One of Kenny's girls from earlier walked up to the table, trying to catch Kenny's attention. The blond grinned, standing up from the leather couch to join her.

"I dunno about you guys, but I'm going to go dance," he said, allowing the girl to latch onto his arm. "Coming?"

"I guess… sso," Stan slurred, trying to stand but falling limply across the table. Kyle held in a snicker. Cartman folded his arms, turning away from Kenny.

"No way, you poor asshole. Dancing's for fags," he muttered, draining the last of Stan's beer.

"Heyy…" the drunken man slurred in indignation. This time Kyle had to laugh.

"Well, I guess I'll come." Kyle stood up from the table, only slightly tipping to the side. Kenny grinned, starting towards the dance floor with his friend. After only moments in the large crowd, the blond had managed to attract a crowd of young women around him.

Kyle shot a curious glance back at the table from the crowd. His best friend was still sprawled across the table, but Cartman was gone. Kyle was puzzled for a moment, but was distracted by two skimpily dressed girls tapping his shoulder.

"Want to dance with me?" one of the girls asked, playing with a strand of her short black hair. The other girl pushed in front of her, grabbing Kyle's forearm.

"I saw him first," she said playfully, running a hand up Kyle's arm to his shoulder. This girl was tall, with bleach-blonde hair and brown eyes. She was wearing a jean miniskirt and a pink tube top. The other girl smiled seductively, stepping back to wait her turn. The blonde pulled Kyle into the crowd of dancers before he even had time to speak.

"Relax, sweetie, I don't bite," the blonde girl purred, running her hands through Kyle's red curls. He felt disoriented, his head pounding sharply. The flashing lights traced patterns on the black and white tile floor, dancing across Kyle's eyes. A wave of dizziness tore through his stomach.

Suddenly, the girl leaned in and kissed Kyle roughly. The man tried to pull back, alarmed, but his body suddenly felt weak. The girl had slipped something into Kyle's mouth. A pill, maybe, or a tablet. She broke the kiss with a smirk, leaning in close to the man's ear.

"Just relax…"

Kyle felt the drug's effects immediately. All the lights in the room blurred and brightened. The loud music seemed to slow down, and the faces of the people around him were distorted.

"Kyle? You okay?" Kenny's voice pierced through the dreamlike state as the redhead's vision swam. Suddenly, the lights in the room disappeared, and everything went pitch-black. There was a sensation of falling, broken by something soft. Kyle was tired. He wanted to sleep. But the hands around his shoulders gripped so tightly they hurt. The redhead shifted uncomfortably.

"What did you give him?" a voice asked in cold panic. Kyle vaguely wondered what was going on. The sounds of the music faded away to a soft hum.

"I SAID, WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU GIVE HIM?" the voice shouted. Kyle felt himself being lifted into someone's arms. The man's thoughts ran thick like honey, dripping into what remained of his consciousness.

Kyle could vaguely feel a rush of cold air surround him as a door slammed. The worried voices slowly disintegrated into a faint buzz as his mind slipped away.

…………………………………………………………….

**A/N: Let me start by saying that I am so, so sorry for the wait. I was really busy with school and horseback riding that I couldn't find the time to finish this chapter for a while. And then I only have this short monstrosity of a chapter to offer you… Oh well. I hope you enjoy anyway! I promise the wait won't be so long for chapter 8.**

**Ah HA! Another cliffhanger. HA HA HA. Sorry. I feel extremely devious today. Lyric for the title is from the song 'Untouched' by The Veronicas. Me no own. Please review! ^___^**


	8. Such A Beautiful Disaster

"Love is a fire. But whether it's going to warm your heart or burn down your house, you can never tell."

**-Joan Crawford**

…………………………………………………………………………………

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

Kyle was floating on a warm cloud. His mind was a blur of memories and bits of information that couldn't quite piece themselves together.

Denver is the capital of Colorado. Bounty is the quicker picker-upper. Bird is the word.

He was swimming through an ocean as thick and sticky-sweet as molasses. Wandering through the Kyle-verse.

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

What the hell was that sound? Kyle rolled over, trying to escape the noise. Something tugged at his forearm, sending an odd stinging sensation up to his elbow. Mildly irritated, he made a small noise of displeasure.

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

"Goddamnit!" the redhead shouted, sitting bolt upright.

Kyle was in a small, spotless room. The walls were painted a comforting sort of green, and pictures of flowers and landscapes sat just above the white trimming. A fluorescent light buzzed from the ceiling, casting a soft blue glow.

_Wait- A hospital room?_

There was no doubt about where Kyle was. An IV drip was attached to his forearm, trailing to a large bag full of a clear solution. A heart rate monitor _beep beep_ed not three feet away from the small white cot Kyle found himself to be laying on. Suddenly, the redhead heard a small noise.

He turned slowly to face the left, not wanting to disturb the stinging IV needle. Next to the bed, a large lump was sprawled out on a small hospital chair. It seemed to be rising slowly up and down, covered with a large black coat.

Kyle gingerly reached out and lifted the flap of the coat ever so slightly. He did a double take and almost ripped out the IV needle in surprise and amusement.

Underneath the enormous coat was Eric Cartman. Fast asleep, wearing a loose blue t-shirt and jeans.

Clutching a small green stuffed frog.

Kyle snorted, clapping his free hand over his mouth. Cartman claimed he'd gotten rid of 'Clyde Frog' at least twenty years before. The small stuffed animal was ripped and tattered, but still recognizable.

"Kyle? Hey, dude! Stan, get over here! He's awake!"

Kyle snapped out of his memory in an instant. He looked toward the owner of the voice, startled. Kenny was leaning through the doorway to the hospital room, gesturing wildly to somebody down the hallway.

"KYLE?!?" Stan shouted, barreling through the door.

Stan looked like hell. He was still wearing the same green t-shirt that he had worn to…

"The club! What happened at the club?" Kyle asked, pieces of his memory beginning to return. He vaguely recalled dancing with someone, and then getting dizzy.

"Kyle! How are you feeling?" Stan exclaimed worriedly, rushing over to grab his best friend's pale hands. Kenny shushed him, pointing towards the sleeping figure of Cartman.

"Stan, what happened?" Kyle demanded, looking his friend straight in the eye. The black-haired man avoided his gaze, glancing down at the floor.

"I shouldn't have left you alone," Stan mumbled. "It's all my fault."

"Kenny, what the hell is going on?" Kyle asked, exasperated.

"I dunno… Some chick at the club slipped you something. Might have reacted badly with your diabetes and all. But, dude! I have NEVER seen Cartman so pissed!" Kenny paused for emphasis, grinning and waiting for Kyle to ask what happened next.

Kyle rolled his eyes. "Okay, fine. What happened after I passed out?"

The blond eagerly continued his story. "Well, after you fell over, Cartman started yelling at this ho like he's going to kill her. Apparently, before you two started making out he saw the chick pop some weird pill."

"Wow," Kyle mumbled, looking anywhere but at Cartman.

"But the weirdest part was, he acted like he _knew_ the girl!" Kenny added, shaking his head in disbelief. "And then he got all freaked out and took you to the hospital."

_Cartman? Helped… me? THE Eric Cartman?_ thought Kyle. He rubbed his temples in disbelief, not ready to take in so much information.

Stan kneeled on the floor with a pitiful expression on his face, trying not to meet his friend's bright green eyes. Kyle sighed, finally flicking the man on the temple to get his attention.

"I'm so sorry," Stan mumbled, rubbing the side of his head.

"It wasn't your fault," Kyle said. "And besides, I'm fine now, right? Wait a second. How long has it been since this happened?"

"Two days," Kenny piped in, pulling out his Blackberry to check the time. "It's Sunday, seven fifteen PM. The nurses say you'll be able to leave tomorrow morning, though."

Kyle's jaw dropped. Had he really been out for that long? He looked guiltily at Stan kneeling by the bed, realizing that his friend probably hadn't even left the hospital. Suddenly, Stan's head lolled to the side slightly, and he let out a small snore. The man had fallen fast asleep on the ground. Kenny rolled his eyes, shifting Stan into a sitting position and hoisting him over his shoulder.

"Look, Kyle, I have to get this loser home," Kenny said with a tired smile. "He hasn't slept since you got sick, and that bitch Wendy's probably going to be all pissed if I don't bring him back soon."

Kyle nodded, glancing guiltily at his sleeping friend. Stan's exhausted face was peaceful. Strands of thick black hair tumbled across his forehead when Kenny shifted his weight. The blond man looked at Kyle strangely for a moment, glancing over at the sleeping man in the chair.

"When Cartman wakes up, I think you should tell him you're sorry," Kenny said, all traces of laughter gone from his voice. His piercing blue eyes looked serious, and rather dark. Kyle was uneasy.

"Sorry for what? I didn't ask him to do anything for me," Kyle said rather haughtily. Kenny was silent.

"For making him worry." Without another word, the blond man turned and left the hospital room, Stan slung over his shoulder.

Kyle gazed at Cartman's sleeping figure softly, listening to his friend's footsteps echoing down the empty hallway. The brown-haired man looked almost like an absurdly large child, clutching the stuffed frog tightly to his muscular chest.

_Why did he help me? He hates me, right?_

Cartman shifted in his sleep, rustling his soft brown hair. Kyle pulled at his own red curls absently.

_Right?_

…………………………………………………………………

Kenny walked swiftly down the hospital corridor, carrying Stan as if he weighed nothing at all. His normally mischievous blue eyes were dark and stern, filled with an emotion he couldn't quite place.

His true motives for coming to Washington were beginning to unfold.

The blond sighed, stepping into the empty elevator and pressing the 'lobby' button. Stan stirred feebly, trying to get comfortable.

But how the hell was he supposed to carry out his mission if Kyle and the fatass were so goddamn stubborn? Seriously. Kyle was supposed to be the smart one, couldn't he take a hint?

He would just have to try harder. That's it.

_Eventually things will work out._

But the time was growing nearer, and it seemed he still hadn't made much progress.

_Won't they?_

……………………………………………………………….

Stan wiggled around on Kenny's shoulder, trying to shift his weight to get comfortable as the taller man walked smoothly down the hallway. Seriously, who the hell carries a full-grown, perfectly capable man without even trying to wake him up first? My God. It was the final indignity.

It's not that Stan didn't appreciate the escape, though. After being worried sick about his friend for two days, it was certainly a welcome relief. Once he had seen that Kyle was okay, Stan had finally felt comfortable leaving him. After all, Cartman would take care of him.

Wait, wait, wait- Hold it right there. WHAT was that?

The intolerant, Jew-hating, war-mongering fatass… would take care of Kyle?

But somehow, strangely… Stan knew it was true. Even in childhood, it seemed that Cartman had been looking out for Kyle in his own way. During all of their insane adventures in the small mountain town of South Park, the two boys hated each other and fought nonstop, but held a certain respect for one another throughout it all.

Kenny pushed the elevator button with his free arm underneath Stan, coming to a halt as the car traveled slowly upwards to meet them. The doors opened to reveal a few tired-looking hospital visitors who quickly scurried out of the elevator car. The blond stepped gracefully through the doors, waiting for them to fully close before speaking.

"You can stop pretending to be asleep now."

Kenny gently set Stan back on his feet, flashing a cheeky grin. The black-haired man shrugged sheepishly, rubbing his eyes.

"What was that whole deal with Kyle, right before you walked out?" Stan asked, stretching his shoulder blades.

"I think you know. And I'm not usually wrong," Kenny replied, a thin layer of jest covering his serious tone.

"Something's up with him and Cartman."

"Yeah," Kenny murmured thoughtfully. The elevator began to move downward jerkily.

"I mean, seriously. Did you see the fatass after Kyle passed out? I don't think I've ever seen him with that look on his face before," Stan added. The two were silent for a moment as the elevator came to a sudden halt.

The slightly scratched metal doors slid open automatically, revealing a sparsely furnished, dimly lit lobby. The two friends walked to the entrance of a hospital, sharing one final glance before they went their separate ways.

……………………………………………………

Some time later, Kyle was asleep once again. He had passed a physical examination and been cleared to go home the next morning. The frail man's chest rose and fell gently.

It was almost hypnotic, thought another person sitting very close by. _Up. Down. Up. Down._

Cartman mentally slapped himself. It wasn't 'hypnotic'. Or anything remotely similar to that.

He was seriously pissed off about having to waste three days in this fucking hospital while the ginger retard took his sweet time about waking up. Already Cartman had missed a press conference and fallen behind on his campaign paperwork. Which was, of course, supposed to be this asshole's job.

So why did he feel a sharp twinge in his chest every time he glanced at Kyle's pale, fragile body lying on the small hospital cot?

This wasn't his fault.

It didn't even have anything to do with him. Did it? Of course not. It wasn't his responsibility to fucking baby-sit the guy. Goddamnit, why did everything have to be so fucking complicated?

Cartman felt slightly peeved that he had slept through his chance to piss of Kyle, completely missing the time window when the other man was awake. Oh, well. Maybe now he'd have more time to think of a clever line to use when the redhead woke up.

How about, _"Only a Jew would pass out from something like that?"_ Nah, too generic. _"What the hell were you thinking, dancing with that slut? Don't Jews have standards?" _Too easily brushed off.

The next one Cartman spoke aloud, not quite sure why he did so.

"Don't you know how to take care of yourself?"

Kyle looked so vulnerable laying there on the hospital bed, sleeping soundly. The man looked so delicate, so fragile, like if he fell he would shatter into a million pieces.

Suddenly, Cartman's phone began to ring, screaming the Terrance and Philip theme song loudly through its tiny speakers. Goddamnit, how could a phone be so fucking loud? The man scrambled to answer the call before Kyle awoke.

He flipped open the cell phone, stepping quietly out of the hospital room to take the call.

"Hello?" Cartman answered in his most polite, 'of-course-I'm-not-a-sociopath' way.

"Hello there, Eric, dear!"

Cartman's eyes grew wide for a moment, but then quickly returned to their normal size as he coldly replied.

"What do you want?"

"Oh, nothing, sweetheart. I just wanted to… discuss something with you," Scarlett Winston's voice chirped through the receiver.

Cartman was filled with a sudden flash of annoyance. Who the hell did this bitch think she was, calling him gay little nicknames?

"My assistant was not happy about the way you yelled at her on Friday night," the woman's voice crooned.

In the space of an instant, everything clicked.

"You fucking bitch," Cartman muttered softly.

"Oh, come now. No need to be so touchy. I had my reasons."

"What do you want from me?" he demanded, struggling to keep his voice down.

"I want you to drop out of the election. I'm not going to lose to somebody like you." The woman's voice no longer carried any hint of false sweetness.

Cartman was startled by the hissing venom in Winston's voice. But just as quickly as she had changed demeanor previously, she switched back.

"It's not like I didn't give you fair warning," she quipped with mock playfulness.

"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I told him I wasn't afraid to… play dirty."

A clicking noise was heard, and then the sound of the dial tone buzzed through the empty hallway. Cartman was left with a hollow sense of dread as he snapped the cell phone shut.

The man slid heavily into the small chair next to Kyle's bed, gazing thoughtfully at the emerald eyes under closed lids. A shudder went down his spine as he remembered the chilling phone call.

If this was a game, it was one he definitely did not want to play.

...............................................................................................................

A/N: This chapter is a bit dark, but I thought it would be nice to give some insight into the other boys' minds and find out a little more about the situation that's unraveling here. But I promise, the rest of the story won't be quite as intense as this chapter was. Lyric for the chapter title is from the song 'Beautiful Disaster' by Kelly Clarkson. Thanks again to all of my previous reviewers, and thanks in advance to any future reviewers :D


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